Cassandra Pendragon
Shocking… as if I couldn’t have guessed that much myself. Admittedly though, I had always expected the angels to come looking for me first, Michael was the one who wanted my head on a silver platter, after all. If Auguros didn’t have more to tell, I’d be majorly disappointed. The same sentiment was clearly written all across Erya’s and Morgan’s faces, mixed with anger. He had answered none of their questions, but before we could vent our displeasure, he continued hastily:
“So much for the the situation I found myself in, years before we first met, Erya. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do back then, or how I could even dream of stopping creatures that made a whole world tremble… like you said, in comparison to them we seem so… insignificant. I felt… defeated, like a small speck of light tasked with banishing the darkness forever. Despair and a lack of alternatives drove me back towards the memories and insights Gaya had shared with me. It took me ages to even comprehend how much she had given me and even longer until I began to understand. The truth was simple: I couldn’t, not at all. The only way we, our world, would stand the sliver of a chance, was with its peoples, each one of them united under a strong leader who could call them to arms and tell them to flee, if it became necessary. Additionally, we would need a place where we could hide, one that could endure the destruction of this world, a place where Gaya could continue to exist, through her many children. And it just so happens that one of you carries the seed which might turn into it.” Holy hell, now it was getting interesting.
“Now, you might be wondering, why I even have knowledge of that thing and the answer is simple: I orchestrated a small part of its creation. I had a friend, once, a kitsune, old and wise and plenty grumpy. She was blind but she could still see more than many others. I imagine you know her well… and I’m sorry for your… all our loss, as Greta was one of the very few truly good people I’ve ever met. That… seed you hold, she’s enchanted it for centuries, Gaya’s power bleeding into it over the years but it still wasn’t enough, we needed more, we needed something else to even begin to construct the blue print contained within, a realm protected from the outside, one where we could be safe. And in all those years, I’ve come across exactly one source who could provide the knowledge and the power to make it possible. I’ve told you before that I’ve met someone once, someone who could truly see the future. It shouldn’t be hard to guess by now that I contacted the lord of mirrors and asked for his help. It might seem foolish to you, but remember why he’s here and why he willingly submitted to a puny wizard. Back then, I thought with the whole world in the balance and nothing but my soul at stake… there could have been worse odds.” He became quiet and owlishly gazed from one to the other, taking in my half opened mouth and Erya’s incredulous expression, as well as Morgan’s look of complete confusion.
“Well, I’m still alive, still have my soul and as far as I can tell, he never breathed a word of what he had done to his master. With his help, I developed a plan that would allow him to saturate the seed with a spark of his power… and this is where it gets interesting. Let’s get the easy bits out of the way: I don’t know how much your brother, Mordred, has told you about his past, but he was the carrier that allowed a tiny bit of Amazeroth’s magic to reach the seed unnoticed and transform the enchantments Greta had placed on it. Now, all it needs to grow, it can take from you. So much for the haven we have tried to built. As for your family, Erya… I mentioned before that we need leaders who can unite the different people of this world. The fey won’t stand behind the weak or the malleable. They will only bow to the strongest and those they judge their superior. Your children have become just that, a banner under which the different realms can unite. And thanks to you, all of them have a tiny spark of the joyful, curious kids they once were still within them.”
I missed his next few sentences since another realisation struck me: Viyara was close to the same. Well, less cold and cruel, but she still was a being that would unite a good chunk of the dragons behind her, if she was given the chance. And my family… we had already been royalty. But even the best plans could sometimes fail. Maybe the destruction of my home hadn’t been planned, my own intervention back from when I had killed the Furglows to the last act of defiance when I had intended to sacrifice myself to burn Boseiju, might have derailed a carefully laid out path and set us on the road to destruction. Argh, hopefully not. I was feeling guilty enough already without another layer of responsibility for what had happened to my people.
“Cassandra,” I heard Erya say while she pinched my side. “Are you alright? You look like someone just walked over your grave.”
“Not mine,” I sighed. “But maybe countless others. It… it doesn’t matter anymore, what’s done is done, anyways. But I’m starting to think that maybe I’ve done more harm than good, ever since I became involved. I’m… the more I know, the less sure I am of what I’m supposed to do.”
I meant every word, wouldn’t I just end up screwing us over time and again, if I continuously tried to fight against Amazeroth’s plans? In other words, fight against fate, or at least something close to it? There were quite a handful of sayings in that regard, like fate leads the willing and drags along the reluctant. Had I doomed my people in my vanity? But then again, hadn’t my actions, misguided or not, at least proven that there truly was no such thing as a destiny written in stone?
Again I became lost within my own mind, chasing answers to useless questions but I couldn’t help it. Ancient I might have been, but just then, I felt like a child in the woods who had lost the path. What was I supposed to do? Play along? Stop struggling out of fear I’d make it worse? No, that just wasn’t me. I’d keep on trying, I’d always keep on trying and if I couldn’t deal with the consequences, I’d do what I had always done: fight against them until my very last breath. It seemed like I hadn’t changed that much from the lonely angel who had challenged heaven and hell all on his own for nothing more than the truth: they were wrong. And this time, I had people with me who would stay until the very end and set me straight if I was wrong.
Warmth spread from my core without warning and made me gasp. An infinite torrent of energy suddenly raced through me like an ocean forcing its way through the eye of a needle, much more powerful than what I had felt before. From one second to the next, my vision blurred, silvery light turned everything around me into depthless shadows and liquid fire filled my veins while my wings materialised on their own accord. I felt them grow while something within me broke, a wall I hadn’t even realised was there burst into a million sparks that were absorbed into the stream and made it swell even more. I was a tiny vessel, unable to contain the raging forces within unless I managed to change, to expand. I knew what was happening to me, I had been there before, but this… this wasn’t going to be healthy for anyone around. Erya had asked me before if I was turning into a star and now it definitely felt like it. The heat of one was already pulsing though my body.
I screamed when the flood of energy ignited my nerves and meridians, fusing them to my astral body. Bright light, harsh and unyielding broke through my skin and with my last clear thought I whispered through the crackling storm: “run,’ before I shot into the air, a glaring spear of uncontrolled power that tore the sky asunder and set it ablaze.
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As soon as I willingly pushed more energy from my core to get away, it became worse, much worse. My mind recoiled from the fires of heaven that burned within me, brighter than the sun and I felt my thoughts shift and squirm under the mounting pressure. Silver and blue were all around me, I couldn’t see the island anymore, nor the clouds on the horizon, even the smells were gone. My ears were filled with the hammering of the tide against a rocky shore and every inch of my body felt like it was ripped apart and put back together, only to be torn to shreds again.
I was begging for unconsciousness, to wake up when it was finally over but time ticked on mercilessly while I had to experience every excruciating moment. Flickering lights danced before my eyes, brighter than the world of silver I had been cast into. I couldn’t say if they were just figments of my imaginations or if I had gotten closer to the stars above but slowly, they began to move, to dance. Whirls and spirals, strange constructs and flowing silhouettes appeared and gradually, the pain vanished as they turned into scenes and images and I slipped into another dream.
The soles of my leather boots clicked on the dark marble and threw the echoes back at me as I made my way across the pristine floor of an ancient… well, in comparison to me, moderately aged, temple. From the corner of my eye, I saw the reflections in green, white and purple, cast by the flickering torches whose light hit the jade worked into a plethora of mandalas along the walls, which prompted me to stop and look around.
No matter how often I came here, the sheer beauty of the place remained as astonishing as the first time I had visited. Bluish swaths of burned incense rose from the braziers in the corners, their sweet and heavy smell soothed my nerves while my eyes roamed over the depictions along the wall. The wheel of life, the five pillars of wisdom, the realms of hell… each one as detailedly crafted as if the artist had truly seen them, with a small altar underneath, the stones worn and polished from uncounted centuries of worship. Further up, the geometrical placed mandalas made room for open windows under a pitched roof, the icy wind blowing through the gaps.
An ingenious stroke of inspiration had allowed the architects to turn the upper parts of the temple into a giant choir. The wind chimes and bells that hung from the ceiling fused their tune beautifully with the quiet song of the wind. Ethereal music filled this place, anytime of the day. It changed whenever the wind blew from another direction, lovely and heartwarming in the east, quiet and compassionate in the south, merry and joyful in the west and stately and serene in the north.
A handful of monks in reddish robes kneeled in silence, their heads bowed to the higher principles they contemplated here. Every once in a while I would heard one or the other move when they shifted their weight but otherwise, the sublime song remained uninterrupted.
I was back on Earth, alone. When I had felt Aurora burn away the mark I had gifted her with, I had felt lost, even though I had known for quite some time now that she had chosen to stand against me. Still… that final act had shaken me and I had fled to a place I knew I was welcome, a short reprieve form a cosmos that held no more warmth for me, the very same place where I had forged the sigil to begin with, all those years ago.
Deep within the Himalaya, between snowy mountain tops where nothing lived, an ancient temple stood, one I had helped built. It was a sanctuary, a tiny spot of respite and peace, sealed off from immortals as well as everyone else who sought to bring strife and misery into the small world of music and tranquility. I had pumped so much energy into its foundations that I had been forced to strengthen the metals and stones I had used with parts of my own body. It hadn’t been fun, but after years of hard work and no small amount of pain, the very same tile of marble I was now standing on had been finished.
I couldn’t even remember why I had wanted to create something lasting, but when I had finally allowed myself to rest, sinking into dreams of times long gone, it had felt like I had accomplished something important, something meaningful. When I had opened my eyes again, an unbelievably chubby man had grinned down on me, his belly barely contained within the folds of his robe. While I had been sleeping, he had prepared an ample breakfast, the last provisions he had had in his pack.
It had turned out to be true, love truly goes through the stomach. I had never made friends with anyone faster than the content, happy fellow Siddhartha Gautama who had serve me rice and milk near the summit of a lonely mountain. And now, centuries later, his disciples still filled the hall they had built on top of my creation with life and a deep spirituality, that I hoped would help me find my balance again.
The monks didn’t look up as I made my way towards the far corner, where, below a mandala so worn by time that even the jade had begun to wither, a bald, ascetic and ancient human knelt, deep in meditation. His eyes were closed but since he had been blind for the past decades, it didn’t make much of a difference. He was old enough that he had forgotten his name and no one else could remember, none but me. When he had been born, 152 years ago in Kathmandu, to an English officer and a local girl, they had named him Sanyoddhavya Asura, someone who intends to fight the demons, an unusual name but well deserved.
The kid shouldn’t have lived. His father had made a pact with a demon, a knight of hell, no less. He had been sick, terminally so, and to survive he hadn’t sold his soul, he had sold his first born. I had never found out how he had come across the calling ritual, a very powerful one at that, but as luck would have it, when the knight had come to claim his price, I had been on earth, in Tibet to be precise. I had immediately felt the appearance of a demon and when I had gone looking, I had found a crying girl, a stone faced man and a smiling demon who had gleefully taken a baby from a crib. If I hadn’t been forced to heal the child, allowing the demon to escape, he wouldn’t have survived that day. No wonder I had wanted to punch Chaleb, his brother, when we had met in that bar. While I had managed to save the crying baby, the parents had been gone. I had brought him to the nearest orphanage, one that had been founded by Gautama, millennia ago and there he had spent his childhood until chance had brought us together again, during my next visit on earth.
When I came close he cocked his head and the wrinkly, humped figure swayed from left to right until he turned around and a wide smile that showed his missing teeth spread over his face. Contentment and joy radiated from each pore of the wizened monk but I could still see the core of steel underneath, steel hard enough that it had withstood over 30 years at my side without bending. Even though his body was waning, the power of his soul was undiminished and I could practically see the halo of vibrant energy that radiated off his skin. It would still take decades until he’d succumb to old age. When his time would finally be upon him and he found his new place on the wheel, I’d go looking for his soul, that much was certain. Well, if I was still around by then.
“Ah, if it isn’t the devil himself who decided to wander through our hallowed halls.” I should never have told him that or allowed him to visit the Vatican, ever since he had been there, there was no end to his gloating. He slowly got up, his knees and back creaking audibly as he extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, my friend, but I hope you’re not here because we’re in danger. It’s been such a lovely couple of years and I must say, I do enjoy the peace and quiet of my retirement.” I gently shook his hand and returned his smile.
“Your world is safe for now, no need to get your blood pressure up. No, I’m here because… I’m here because I wanted to see a friendly face and because I fear that I might not have the chance to visit many more times.” He stilled, his hazy unfocused eyes that had roamed across my face as if he could still see zeroed in on mine and he placed his other hand on my shoulder. “Come, let us talk. Tell me how you’ve been and what you mean because, for once, I don’t think you’re right.”